somewhere between wood and glass
by fatechan
Summary: fairy tale drabbles
1. warning and general notes

Before I even start this, I'd like to put down some general warning and estimates on rates and such things. First and foremost, I guarantee that at least one chapter of this piece will have sex in it. Rather general, slightly painful, non graphic sex, but it is still sex, so if this bothers you or you simply are not mature enough to handle this, press the back button now. In addition, one chapter will have one sided same sex attraction. While it is not very explicit, it may disturb some, so be advised. I update sporadically if at all, though each chapter in this can be read separately. Each chapter is a retelling of a familiar fairytale, albeit in tiny vignettes focusing on one main point, for example the feel of cool glass slippers sliding on ones foot. Each chapter has its specific warnings and will be rated separately. Overall, the rating is R, but it changes from story to story. 


	2. breeze from the orchard

No warnings, this one is clean. Very short though.  
  
In the darkness I was locked away, and it was hard and suffocating and unbearable, even as a woodland breeze drifted across my skin. I wanted to open my eyes to see the rich green of the forest I felt around me. But most of all I craved that apple, shiny and crisp and freely given, like nothing I had before. I longed for the way its sweet, stinging juice ran down my throat and into my veins, wrapping 'round my heart until I was gone, even as their gentle, callused hands tried to wake me. 


	3. serpentine

Short and clean. I think. Depends on how you think.  
  
From the beginning, I wanted to touch them. They looked so soft, slinky curls that held sunshine in their curves. They seemed so warm, as if I could run my hand through those locks and feel their heat lifting the winters' chill. But when she opened her beady eyes in that pudgy face, her cold blue stare froze those honey twists into wiry coils of brittle gold. And that watery sapphire gaze held only contempt and fear. 


	4. cinder slip

Okay folks, this one is R, for violence and VERY suggestive themes  
  
When I had thought of it before, I never really imagined it would be like this. Perhaps living as a serving maid preserved my ideals, if not my innocence. I wanted it smooth and slow, bodies twining slickly around each other sinuously. He was supposed to be perfect, supposed to love me as much as I loved him. But not this fast coupling that tears me until I feel like flames dance across my skin, licking between my thighs until I am sure my flesh is raw, slowly burning me to cinders. I wanted it gentle as the glass slipper when he slipped it on my foot, cool glass gliding over my callused skin. Perhaps it is too much to ask from him, but as he presses my shoulders into the coverlet and prepares to start his relentless pounding once again, he asks too much from me. Lying limp beneath him, I reach for the dirk I have kept beneath my skirts for just this occasion. He lets out a startled grunt as it slides under his ribs deep within him, and it is smooth and oh so slow as I gather him gently to my chest. And while his life bleeds away on my breasts, I think I've found something new to love. 


	5. losing the depths

Ummm. rated PG  
  
It was the evening after I had seen him, saved him, when I went to her. I left our warm waters for her, slipping into the cool waters of the trench. She whom my sisters knew only as the Sea Witch dwelt deep below, where the sun only appeared as murky sheets threaded through the water, and the chill slithered across my skin, leaving a tightened trail down my back. She met me at the edge, ancient, beautiful. Her hair like the streaming forests of kelp, smooth skin like water-ravaged bones, predatory pupilless eyes the color of the great beasts that sang in late summer, and a tail striped black and white like the snake that bit my late seventh sister last winter as she collected coral. She gazed at me expectantly, and I could tell that she already knew why I had come. In her outstretched hand she held a delicate vial that glowed dimly in the gloom. I reached out for it, but the Sea Witch shielded the flask with one slight, webbed hand. She spoke then, and her voice twisted and bubbled like the flow of the deep as she told me that nothing was free. I offered her the riches of the ocean and she laughed, the sound flowing from her lips like the tide. 'no,' the Sea Witch said, 'the price is what you shall miss the most.' And I promised the gift most precious as she leaned forward to lightly clasp the sides of my face. Her mouth was smooth against mine, the cold current brushing our faces, and I could feel the heat of her through the soft flesh of my lips beneath hers. And slowly I felt something being drawn from inside me, first seeping up to where our mouths joined, then gaining speed as the Sea Witch tore my gift away from me. My skin was oddly heated, and the strange sensation of my scales peeling off of my tail made me quiver in her arms. Searing fire ran up the now bare flesh, and I broke away from her embrace as my back arched with pain. The water stung my eyes and invaded my lungs at my silent scream of agony. The Witch pulled me into her arms as my vision went black. 


End file.
